


A Rather Common Name

by HelloTragic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: CS January Joy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-13 16:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloTragic/pseuds/HelloTragic
Summary: She hated him. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but he was a dick when they met. So why did she tell him about the apartment for rent in her building? And why did she let him in? Let him climb her walls? Why did she let herself trust him when every man she'd ever been with had betrayed her? Why did she think he'd be different?And why, despite it all, did she still love him?





	1. 1

 

The hustle and bustle of Christmas had come and gone in the Nolans’ Boston apartment. The tree had been taken down the day after Santa had delivered his presents, yet the lights remained, strewn up in the living room to keep the festive spirit alive. Mary Margaret was insistent that the lights could be recycled into New Year’s Eve decorations. The only concession given to David’s objections was the removal of the brightly colored bulbs wrapped around the railing of their balcony. Apparently red and green didn’t exactly scream New Year’s.

 

Instead, they were swapped out for some of the trendier hanging lights that she’d seen in all of the design magazines. The same magazines that usually covered Mary Margaret’s coffee table, something to be left up year round. But on that night, they’d only be admired from the living room. When the invitations went out, Mary Margaret had clearly not expected the massive nor'easter coming through. The news said that five inches had already been dumped on the city with no end in sight.

 

Mary Margaret had always been the perennial mother hen of the group, throwing all of the holiday parties. Christmas and Thanksgiving had come later, after they’d graduated and decided to become adults, but the New Year’s eve tradition had started back in college, right around the same time that David had appeared. Emma hadn’t missed the connection between her best friend throwing her first ever party, and the fact that said party was for a holiday that traditionally included kissing at midnight.

 

_Not coincidental at all._

 

At the time, Emma had rolled her eyes, never understanding the build up. Always wondering why everyone bought into the idea that starting the year kissing a drunk loser was supposed to set some amazing standard for the next 365 days. Of course, that had been before Killian. He’d blown into her life like a torrential whirlwind, systematically setting her world on fire even as  she felt like she was drowning in the sea.

 

Emma didn’t date. It was a promise she’d made to herself after Walsh. Twice burned, but never again.

 

_Never let people in and you won’t get hurt._

 

But Killian, he’d snuck his way in while she wasn’t looking, and for the first time in years, she was ready to take a risk. Ready to open the door to her heart. But that’s the problem with opening doors in the storm. Sometimes the wind is so strong that you get blown away in the process.

 

_There’s been an accident._

 

With one phone call, her entire world was rocked. The storm around her raged as she stood there at the door, rooted to her spot in sheer agonizing fear. Crippling paralyzing fear. The open shutters an invitation for her desolation. The ground shook, knocking her from where she stood. Windows shattered, shards of glass strewn on the floor around her. One piece aside, her heart stabbed clean through.

 

* * *

 

 

**New Year’s Eve: 2 Years Earlier  
**

 

“Emma, it’s only twenty minutes to midnight. Surely you’ve picked out someone by now?”

 

There was a sickeningly sweet tone to Mary Margaret’s voice as she said it. Some odd notion that happily ever after was achievable to anyone if you only had hope. Normally Emma would let it roll off her shoulders like water off a duck’s back, but having just collected her pay for bringing in another cheating runaway embezzler, Emma’s faith in love and hope was at an all time low. There was absolutely nothing appealing about kissing a stranger, not that she was necessarily opposed to doing _other_ things with strangers on any _other_ night. Something about New Year’s Eve was clichéd though, raising expectations.

 

Emma scanned the room. Most of the guests included the usual suspects. Graham, David’s partner at the precinct, who by all accounts was actually a stand up guy, but he was already off limits. He’d been in love with Ruby for years, pining away for her in secret. A secret kept from Ruby alone. He wasn’t Ruby’s type though, and she’d never once considered him in that way, never noticed the way his eyes stayed glued to her from across the room. Never noticed the way he always made sure to have a full glass in front of her before she could finish her beverage. How he was always bringing extra tapenade hummus to their get togethers knowing that it was her favorite. Instead she’d always picked party boys. The love ‘em and leave ‘em type.

 

Talking animatedly next to Graham was David, who was ‘out’ for obvious reasons. Beside them though was a man Emma had never seen before. Brooding heavily. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he chugged back the rest of the drink in his cup. But before she could get a better look at him, her attention was dragged back to Mary Margaret.

 

“If you haven't picked anyone out yet, then I have this guy in mind for you. He teaches with me at the school and he’s so sweet. His name is Jefferson and-”

 

“Whoa, are you talking about that guy that always wears those crazy different hats around town?”

 

Emma hadn’t even noticed Ruby approaching.

 

“Yes, and I think he’d be wonderful for Emma.”

 

“Uh, Mags. That guy is certifiably crazy. You know that right?”

 

“Ruby, he’s not crazy, and that’s not even a politically correct word to use anymore. Yes, he may be a bit eccentric, but all of the kids love him.”

 

“Listen to me. Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m not kissing anyone tonight.” Emma watched as Mary Margaret tried to interrupt, but stopped her before she could argue. “The only man that’s going to be touching my lips tonight is Mr. Jose Cuervo.”

 

With that, Emma grabbed the half empty bottle off the kitchen counter and made her way through the crowd, sneaking out onto the empty balcony. The streets below them were nearly empty. A rare sight on a Saturday night in Boston. She stood there, watching the lights change from emerald to amber, then scarlet. Over and over, no cars ever crossing the intersection. The calm should have relaxed her, but instead it did the opposite. Only further reminding her of how alone she was. Of how everyone else in the city had somewhere to be. Someone to be with. Of how Neal was out in the world somewhere probably conning some other stupid naive girl. Of how Walsh was probably in bed with the redhead he’d been screwing for the last three months of their relationship.

 

She’d never have that, and while it had been her choice to swear off men for anything more than a one night stand, on nights like that, she couldn’t help but long for the comfort of a man’s embrace. For something more that just ships passing in the night.

 

“Not that your delectable arse doesn’t make a stunning sight, love, but it’s hardly the view I’d come out here for.”

 

Emma jumped, nearly throwing the bottle of tequila over the rails as she attempted to clutch her chest.

 

“Jesus Christ! Lurk much?”

 

He let out a throaty laugh, lifting his head just enough to catch the glint from Mary Margaret’s bulb decorations. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the blueness of his eyes.

 

“It’s hardly lurking when I was here first.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I was here, minding my own business, taking in the scenery. Then you appeared. Not lurking. Just easily overlooked apparently.”

 

“And you waited to announce yourself, because?”

 

“Well if the lady Nolan is anything like her excitable husband I assumed you needed a few minutes of respite to collect yourself.”

 

She nodded, unable to argue his point. Both of her friends were well meaning but overeager and overbearing when they thought they were right.

 

“Fair point.”

 

He laughed again, a little less humor tinting it that time as his hand gestured to the empty space next to him on the bench. Neither spoke for a few minutes, instead basking in the last remaining moments of silence before the midnight countdown began. Eventually her curiosity broke through though.

 

“Okay. I have to ask. How do you know David?”

 

Their friendship group had always been a fairly small tight knit crew, and she was certain that she’d have remembered the man next to her. Even in her foul mood she’d be an idiot not to acknowledge how handsome he was with that light smattering of scruff covering the lower half of his face. The perfect mixture of rugged and kempt. The way his bicep felt quite firm as he shifted and brushed his arm against hers.

 

“Ah. The inquisition portion of the evening.” He took a long tug from a flask he’d hidden on the ground next to his right foot.

 

He had walls. Something Emma understood intimately. The immediate need to deflect or defend with sarcastic remarks and witty banter. Anything to distract from people from getting too close.

 

“Not an inquisition. Just call it curiosity. And by the way,” she started as she took another swipe from her own bottle. “Who talks like that?”

 

Perhaps she’d had enough of the tequila.

 

“Like what exactly?”

 

She leveled him with her best glare.

 

“Fair point,” he mimicked her words from earlier. “The name is Killian, and to say that I _know_ Nolan would be a bit of an overstatement. I just transferred over to his precinct earlier this week from across town and when he discovered that my plans for New Year’s involved take out and pay per view he insisted I come here. Apparently rubbing elbows with complete strangers with hardly any personality is a more appropriate use of my time. And as far as the ‘talking’ goes, you can blame that on the British educational system. For some reason they really tend to stress the whole _education_ bit unlike the schools here in America.”

 

He stood as the party blowers began to scream, hardly bothering to excuse himself as he left Emma sitting alone, jaw hanging open at the verbal onslaught he’d just bestowed upon her.

 

She could hear the cheers inside signaling that another year had passed in glorious fashion.

 

_Disaster._

 

Not that she should have expected anything less. The year before last she’d lost her mind and kissed Walsh. Another one of Mary Margaret’s infamous set up attempts. A year later she’d  kissed him again, on another midnight . Unfortunately she’d found him kissing another woman just two days later and that was that, having set an impossibly high standard for that year to live up to.

 

Seven weeks into that new year Emma had come back from a night of friendly neighborhood research (stalking) to find that her beloved bug had been stolen. Only further emphasising her back luck, David had pointed out to her that she couldn’t file a report on it without implicating herself in a crime. Apparently cops tended to judge a person when they reported the car they stole as stolen, even if that person had gotten her shit together in the intervening years.

 

And then there had been the bank incident. Her beloved coffee shop had been closed for remodeling and she’d been forced to grab something at one of those trendy chain shops that charged a month’s rent for a single cup of cocoa. Usually that would have been hyperbole, except that particular cup had cost her everything in her checking account. The shop adamantly denied it, but one of the employees had clearly skimmed her card and gone on quite the shopping spree, draining away the money she’d been saving since college.

 

And if life hadn’t yet kicked her hard enough, she’d been evicted from her apartment, although evicted hadn’t been exactly the wording used on the letter explaining that her building was going co-op. But with her account fraud still under investigation and her money not yet returned, she couldn’t afford the down payment. The bank had all but  laughed outright at her when she’d asked them for a loan.

 

The year hadn’t all been bad though. It had led to her living only one floor up from Mary Margaret and David. It was nice coming home from a midnight booking to find her fridge full of homemade meals in perfectly sized tupperware. Her newer car was a slightly less conspicuous than the bright yellow bug and she’d increased the number of skips she’d tracked down because of it. And ya, the new apartment was a little more expensive in rent that her old one had been, but it was a fresh start. Something she desperately needed. The rest of the year had actually gone pretty smoothly too, until she met Killian Jones.

 

He’d gotten under her skin somehow, something she thought about him considerably over the next few days. It wasn’t so much what he’d said, as much as the tone in which he’d sneered it out. She’d been called prickly in the past, but she’d never had someone act so callously towards her before, even in her foster care days. She thought about it as she went to bed in a foul mood. She thought about it as Mary Margaret tried pushing Jefferson on her again at lunch the next weekend. She even thought about it a dinner a few nights later, which is probably why she didn’t see the bread plate hurtling at her face.

 

She’d thought she had him, some lowlife who had hit his girlfriend one too many times. She should have expected it, been prepared for it. She _had_ been, but then the dark haired guy at the bar beside her had said something in an accent and she let her mind wander for the briefest of seconds, just long enough for the scumball to toss a plate right in her face before trying to run out of the restaurant. He’d tripped on the stairs by the entrance though, smashing his face and breaking his nose. If Emma Swan had ever believed in karma, it was in that moment.

 

Luckily for both of their sakes, they’d only been a few blocks over from David’s station house. If she’d had to spend any more time with the man, his nose likely wouldn’t have been the only thing broken that night.

 

Granted, it was after nine on a Tuesday night, meaning David was long gone, but Emma was friendly enough with the night guys that none of them would have given her a second glance if she had roughed him up just a bit more than usual.

 

With the ring of a door bell, Emma found herself shoving the guy through a side door where Mullins was waiting for her just inside the bullpen after buzzing her in. He’d been the cop that had trained David during his rookie days. Mullins had taken a bullet during a robbery during David’s third year with the force, and even though he’d fully recovered physically he’d never returned to the field, too worried about leaving his wife and kids alone.

 

“Well, well, what do we have -” The concern was evident in his eyes as he took her in. “Jesus Christ, Emma.”

 

She felt herself holding back a snicker as Mullins pulled a little more forcefully than usual on the guy’s shoulder. After gruffly ordering her skip to sit down and changing out her cuffs for official department ones, Mullins returned his attention to Emma.

 

“You’re gonna have a pretty good shiner there, ya know that kid?”

 

“I’ve had worse.”

 

“I’m sure you have, but if Nolan finds out I let you leave here without checking you over he’ll have my hide.”

 

She chuckled to herself. David’s protective streak was his defining character trait.

 

“You know you outrank him, right?”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Jones!” His bellow took Emma off guard, startling her slightly. “Grab a first aid kit and get Emma here cleaned up a bit.”

 

Mullins pointed at a desk near the back of the bullpen and told her to go wait. Most of the desks had a few pictures littering the area. They were a mashup of people as the day officers and night officers shared spaces, but the one in the back had only one photo on it. Belle looked stunning in her white dress holding onto Lance’s arm in what was possibly the tightest tux she’d ever seen on a man. They were so happy together. But there was nothing else. Nothing in the way of personal effects from anyone else.

 

“Alright, love, I’ve got-” His words seemed to fall away when she turned around. The last person she’d expected or wanted to see was standing before her in a dark navy blue police uniform. In the artificial lighting she could see that there was a smattering of ginger in his beard. His inky black hair stuck up in places. But it was his eyes that she lingered on. They were possibly the bluest she’d ever seen.

 

“You.” Not her most eloquent of greetings, but she was still fuming over what he’d said to her on New Year’s.

 

“Aye, me.” His fingers fiddled with the latch on the first aid kit, but he made no move to open it.

 

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” she mumbled to herself

 

He at least had the presence of mind to look chagrined.

 

“Please, love. Take a seat and I’ll get you cleaned up and on your way.”

 

“Emma.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“It’s Emma. Emma Swan. I’m not your love.”

 

He nodded and looked at the ground as he came to lean against the desk. _His_ desk.

 

“My apologies. For calling you love, but mostly for the other night. You have every right to be cross with me. I’d had far more libations than food and I treated you poorly. I’d like to think I’m usually more of a gentleman than that.”

 

She studied him for a while, watching to see if his eyes shifted or if he fidgeted. Tells that she’d learned over the years to see if someone was lying. Little pieces of body language that could give away everything. He didn’t do anything to convince her that he was anything but sorry.

 

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t but she felt the call of Ben and Jerry’s and a Netflix marathon pulling at her. As well as a much needed icepack. “I probably wasn’t in the most festive mood either so we’ll call it even.”

 

He had her sit on his desktop so she’d be at eye level with him. Killian - Killian Jones apparently - grabbed her chin and tilted her face to get a better look. Frowning, he lightly brushed her forehead with his fingers causing her to hiss in pain. She knew the plate had caught her pretty squarely in the face, but it hadn’t hurt until just then.

 

He apologized for causing her pain and set to work on cleaning her up, informing her that on top of the beginnings of a black eye there was a pretty large gash as well. She winced as he dabbed the wound with an alcohol swab. She also protested when he suggested she go to the emergency room for stitches. She’d had worse and just wanted to go home and forget the entire night.

 

Well, most of the night. As he set about to applying butterfly strips, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over his face, over the pale pink scar on his right cheek. The slight point of his ears. But mostly over how well his form filled out his uniform. _Boston’s finest indeed_. Shaking away the thought, she heard him apologize once more,thinking he’d hurt her again.

 

“Uh, no. I’m just tired.” Not a complete lie at least.

 

Her exit from the precinct was awkward at best. After Mullins returned with her paperwork so she could collect her money, she hadn’t been sure what to say. Or if she even needed to say anything. They’d only met at a party once for three minutes after all. After mentally debating it, she’d given him a very simple thank you, then humiliated herself by almost poking herself in the eye as she pointed to her face. Not the most graceful exit, but she’d at least managed to make it out of the building without falling over in her heels so she called it a win.

 

She’d barely made it through the front door of her building before Mary Margaret and David had come barreling out down the stairwell, coddling her like parents, insisting that she come back up to their apartment to eat something. Clearly Mullins had called them to check on her. By the time she made it back to her own apartment she was far too tired to do anything other than crawl into bed and pass out.

 

The rest of the week, however, was practically a staycation as she hibernated in her apartment, not wanting to see people’s pitying looks on the sidewalk as they misjudged the situation. The first day her head throbbed and her eye was nearly swollen shut. She slept that day away, not even wanting to get up to search for painkillers or to make an ice pack. The second day was slightly better. The swelling had gone down on her eye, replaced by a deep purple bruising. It was still too sore to cover with concealer so she stayed shut up in her apartment scarfing down the ice cream she’d been craving before.

 

Before she realized it, she’d watched an entire season of The Great British Bake Off, and completely lost track of the time. The sun had long since fallen below the skyline and her stomach was beginning to turn on her for having forgotten to feed it something more substantial than frozen milk all day. Just as she was getting up to check her fridge, she heard a knock at her door.

 

Curious, she checked the peephole, not expecting anyone. Her downstairs neighbors had a key, and while it was supposed to be for emergencies that had never stopped them from using it for everyday use too.

 

It was hard to tell through the dirty glass of the peephole, but it appeared to be a man carrying a large bag of food from what looked like the Chinese place around the corner. It was probably a mix-up with the delivery guy. August down the hall had an even more irregular sleep schedule than her and ordered food at all hours of the night.

 

There was another knock, reminding Emma that the man on the other side of the door was in fact an actual human being and that she should probably open the door and redirect him to August.

 

“Hey, I think you have the wrong apartment. Booth is three doors down on the right.”

 

She was already closing the door when she heard him.

 

“Emma Swan?”

 

“Ya.”

 

“Well, then this is for you.”

 

She tried to explain that she hadn’t ordered anything. That he either had the wrong apartment or that it was a prank. The food had already been paid for though and the tip taken care of. Cautiously she had accepted the bag, setting it on her coffee table as she eyed it, as if it were somehow booby trapped, like a peanut can that once opened launched snakes at its poor unsuspecting victim.

 

Once she’d felt thoroughly convinced that the bag was safe, she began pulling out enough containers of food to feed a small army. She wondered once more if it had been a mistake, if some poor family of four was starving somewhere in the building, but as she pulled out the last carton of spring rolls, she found a note. His handwriting was a bit more flowery than she’d expected, not that she’d actually thought on it until just then.

 

 

 

 

> _Swan,_
> 
> _Now we’re even._
> 
> _-KJ_

 

Simple and to the point, making Emma smile in spite of herself and her lingering hostility towards him. She had to give him credit. He’d nailed all of her favorites, making her wonder if he’d just guessed well or if he’d had a little insight into her food preferences. Although, she doubted that he’d bother asking David and they didn’t share any other acquaintances.

 

That night she ate to her heart’s content, almost too much. Putting away the remaining food, she returned to her bed and quickly fell asleep thanks to her overstuffed stomach. The next morning brought a bit of relief with it. Her black eye was finally in the icky green healing stage and the gash on her forehead looked much better than the first night.

 

Feeling as if she’d rested enough, she called her employer to claim her next case. It was a small time drug dealer. By all accounts, he seemed to be privileged kid rebelling against his parents. He’d dropped out of school his junior year of college and started selling weed out of his car. His latest arrest had been for trying to deal to a cop. His parents had foolishly bailed him out, yet again, and he’d missed his court date, _yet again_.

 

The only foreseeable issue was that the kid had nearly unlimited funds to hide with, though he hadn’t exactly been good at evading the law before. As Emma searched through his social media accounts, it quickly became apparent that what he had in money, he more than made up for in lack of brains. It only took her an hour of research to learn that he’d been staying with an old friend from prep school in the center of the city.

 

Not bothering to go through the effort of a honey trap, Emma dressed in comfortable leggings, a long sleeved sweater and red leather jacket. She did her best to conceal the remaining wounds on her face and set out, grabbing a few snacks for what she hoped would be a very short stakeout.

 

It hadn’t been. In fact it had taken fourteen hours of sitting in her four year old Mini Cooper.. She’d been ready to call it a night when he finally emerged from the brownstone wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He’d clearly watched one too many movies on standard criminal dress codes.

 

As usual, he hadn’t seen her coming. She got the jump on him just as she’d done countless times before, and in near record time she had him back down at David’s station ready for booking. She wasn’t really sure why she’d gone there, passing another police station along the way. One that she’d used plenty of times before.

 

Yet for some reason, she’d felt compelled, trying to reason that it was just because David’s station was closer to her own apartment. That it would be a shorter ride home after. It had absolutely nothing to do with the attractive man that had invaded her dreams the night before.

 

Of course, when he saw her bringing in her barely legal skip and had come over to say hello, she was as annoyed as she might have expected. In fact, he was in a much more jovial mood that night, and when one of the other cops made a comment about how they preferred her other ‘work’ outfits, he just smiled and mumbled something about how they weren’t wrong under his breath. Then she watched as his cheeks pinkened and his finger began to scratch at a spot just behind his ear.

 

She hadn’t known how to take it. She hadn’t known how to take him. Not after New Year’s and the Chinese food. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, moody and brooding one moment, blissfully charming the next. He perplexed her. Or at least that what she told herself as thoughts of him continued to invade her mind over the next three weeks. Unable to get a read on him.

 

The harshness of January gave way to February. Snow still lingered on the sidewalks, but no more had fallen. She’d delivered two more skips to the same department over that time, even though one of them she’d picked up clear on the other side of town. Killian’s mood had soured dramatically by the second drop off. So much so that he’d barely even spoken more than a disgruntled hello that final time. Barely acknowledged that she was there.

 

It shouldn’t have hurt her. It wasn’t like she really needed him to leer at her chest in her skintight minidress like the other cops usually did. Especially the married ones. She’d always felt a little cheap when it happened, but something about his dismissal of her felt worse. Like she was no one. A sensation she hadn’t experienced since she was eighteen, just after Neal. That’s when she’d found out that she’d been accepted to Boston University with a substantial financial aid package. Gone were the days of not being seen by her foster parents or social workers. She’d become someone, and yet at twenty seven, she may as well have been that young girl all over again as he groused about paperwork, waving her off in the process.

 

A few nights later Emma wore that same red dress to pick up her latest skip, promising herself a well deserved break after his delivery. Catching him was easy. A little batting of the eyes, a throaty laugh as she pressed her hand into his chest. He melted into the her, dropping his guard long enough for her to cuff him to the barstool. She didn’t bother taking him to David’s station that time, choosing to instead call someone out from the precinct around the corner. The skip really should have been smarter than to agree to meet her at a notorious cop bar.

 

Once again the dress had done its job, and though she felt a slight bit of gratification knowing that at least _one_ guy in Boston still found her attractive, the garment was shed the moment she walked into her apartment. Unlike the skin tight material, the day lingered on, tight in her muscles, and she hoped that a hot shower would ease her body.

 

It wasn’t meant to be though, as a sharp set of knocks sounded out on her door. Knocks that she recognized. Calling out to wait a minute, Emma scrambled to get dressed, tugging on some leggings and a sweatshirt. She didn’t even bother to check herself over in the mirror before opening the door.

 

She’d met him about two months in from moving into her new apartment. There had been noises, loud ones. Breaking glass, thumping on the walls. It was enough that she could hear it from her closed apartment three doors down. She’d been worried that someone was in trouble. With her gun in tow, she’d crept down the hall, stopping to listen at the door. There had been muffled yells, a man’s voice cursing. The door had been unlocked, and while she’d known it to be a bad idea at the time, walking into a stranger’s apartment uninvented and armed, her concern outweighed her need for self preservation.

 

He was a writer. A self indulgent prick with a complex. A man trying to write the next great novel and failing at it. The yells had been him screaming at his computer, at his words for being unremarkable. Oddly enough, Emma hadn’t been as put off by him as she should have been, and somehow they became friends of sorts.

 

“Thought you might be up for a goodbye party.”

 

He didn’t wait for an invitation, pushing past her to unpack the food he’d brought with him.

 

“Goodbye? I didn’t know I was going anywhere.”

 

August laughed, standing only long enough to grab some beers from her fridge.

 

He was leaving. To some place in Thailand, or near Thailand. Something about needing to disconnect from technology and distractions. About needing to live a story worth telling. She gave him three months before he partied himself into a ditch, or whatever type of landforms they had in Phuket. They ate and drank and promised to stay in touch, both knowing it was a lie. He left that night for the last time and Emma felt just the slightest bit empty.

 

She’d lost her confidant. The one person she could tell things to that wouldn’t judge her thanks to his own litany of crap. The ‘break’ she’d promised herself was short lived. The hollow feeling eating away at her. She needed something to distract herself. It wasn’t hard to track her down. A fake account on Grindr, a quick meet up for a drink first.

 

The only problem had been that the restaurant was only a few blocks away from her apartment, meaning only a few blocks down from the last precinct she wanted to visit again. She thought about driving to another one, but the girl had been mouthy after Emma had cuffed her and she just wanted her gone. She could only pray that he was out patrolling for once.

 

She had never been particularly lucky. Mullins was out sick and the only free officer to take her skip was _him_. He looked like shit, a small satisfaction in her book. Dark circles under his eyes, mused hair, wrinkled uniform.

 

He was moody. Not exactly harsh with the skip, but not showing any real kindness either. Not that she’d expected him to. She’d only seen him a handful of times and he’d been cranky more often than cheerful. If she hadn’t needed him to sign off on the paperwork, she wouldn’t have even bothered to stay. But when he mumbled something about being too busy and her bringing in a skip being an inconvenience she’d had enough.

 

She tossed the paperwork at him, telling him to just sign the damn papers so she could be on her way. Telling him that she hadn’t exactly been expecting to spend her entire night at the station. That _he_ was the inconvenience. She barely let him finish scrawling out his name on the last piece of paper before she ripped it out from under his pen, storming off towards the side door.

 

“Shit. Swan, wait.”

 

She turned around just long enough to give him her fiercest glare before turning and heading for the door again. His hand loosely grabbed her wrist as he chased after her.

 

“Please.”

  
She stopped, not quite facing him, but not shutting him out completely.

 

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, not again, but I shouldn’t have taken my piss poor mood out of you. I’m sorry.”

 

There was a pleading in his tired eyes that she didn’t understand. Yet she felt helpless to hear him out anyway.

 

“No you don’t, and no, you shouldn’t have.”

 

His head dropped in resignation.

 

“Why _have_ you been in such a horrible mood anyway?”

 

He told her the story. It wasn’t the whole story. She knew he was leaving something out, but it wasn’t her place to ask. It wasn’t her place to _want_ to know. But he gave her enough. He’d been staying in a hotel since he changed precincts nearly two months ago, stuck on the night shift. Apartment hunting had been a nightmare. His schedule only left him a small window of opportunity to see listings in person, and the places were either death traps or rented out before he’d got a chance to even view them. Then some ‘lot of bloody children’ had moved into the the room next to him. They spent most mornings running around making noise and he’d been unable to get a decent night’s sleep.

 

She felt for him, something deep within her seeing something in him. A lost boy. He was all alone just trying to survive. He’d been thrown overboard and was too proud to ask for help or to let anyone know he was drowning. She hated herself for what she was about to do.

 

“I have a friend.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“I mean, I have a friend who’s moving out of his apartment. He’s subleasing it himself until his lease is up in a few months and then you could transfer over the lease to your name after, if you wanted to stay there that is.”

 

His eyes shifted, more alert but still guarded. But something lighter filtered through as he watched her. Hope.

 

“You’d do that for me?”

 

“I think we’ve established that _I’m_ not the dick here.” She flourished her hand between the two of them. “The only catch is that it’s in David’s building. I’m not sure if you’d want to see him at both work and your off time.”

 

His head tilted. “Thank you, but perhaps I shouldn’t then. If Dave chose not to tell me about the apartment, it probably means he doesn’t want me there.”

 

“He doesn’t know about it. The guy that lives there now is on a different floor and keeps odd hours. I’m not sure if he and David have actually ever even spoken to each other.”

 

She gave him August’s contact info, telling him that he was likely awake if he wanted to call about it on his break, leaving him with a warning.

 

“Don’t make me regret this, Jones.”

 

He moved in the next week, bringing only a few boxes. August had decided to leave most of his furniture, choosing instead to relinquish the creature comforts he’d become accustomed to. Believing that an artist was more creative when struggling. The furniture didn’t seem to match Killian’s personality, but he said it was fine.

 

He was still unpacking when two large pizzas arrived at her door. Already paid for just like the Chinese food. A thank you gift for getting him out of his hell hotel. He’d waved to her from his doorway, box in hand as she’d accepted the pizza, before ducking back inside. She’d thanked the delivery guy, adding on an extra tip. It was a lot of pizza. Too much really.

 

At least, that’s what she told herself as she grabbed a six pack of beer from her fridge door along with the pizza boxes before heading over to his place. The door had been left open from his constant trips back and forth between his car and the trash chute.

 

“Knock, knock. Welcoming party.”

 

He called back out, telling her to come in, laughing when she told him that someone had sent her an obscene amount of food. They talked a little that night. Superficial things. He was originally from London but had moved to the States for college. He had a brother, still serving in the Royal Navy. They usually only saw each other once a year around Christmas time. Emma was only doing bail bonds long enough to save up enough money for law school. It was strangely nice, despite her missing August.

 

It wasn’t the man that she missed as much as the bond she’d formed. She’d told him everything. Or at least almost everything. Now a near stranger sat in his place, and she felt alone all over again.

 

The strange thing though, was that he wasn’t a stranger. Not a complete one anyway. She knew him in a way. Knew that he’d been hurt. That he was just as alone as she was. Just as defensive. As broken as her. He was a kindred spirit.

 

They parted that night on better terms than ever before, leaving Emma to wonder just who Killian Jones was. What the missing part of his story was. She considered asking Mary Margaret the next day at lunch, but she wasn’t able to think of a natural segueway. One that wouldn’t make her look like a young schoolgirl with a crush.

 

The checks were on the table when she was finally and inadvertently given her chance. Ruby was the one to ask. She’d delivered some coffee and donuts to Graham and David who’d both been up early that morning working on a case. Killian had still been there, causing Emma to wonder why he’d been working so late. She’d even worried a little, but then Ruby  asked about him, and all of Emma’s focus went to that.

 

To why Ruby was asking about him. To the way she toyed with the locket around her neck. The wolfish grin as she mentioned how good his ass looked in those pants. To the way Ruby  asked if he was single.

 

Emma had to hold back a growl as her friend basically spoke of how she’d love to devour the man, and it frightened her. Frightened her that she was jealous over a man she barely knew, that she refused to let herself think of in that way. Jealous that Ruby could be so casual with men she saw on a daily basis. That she was so open with her sexuality. But mostly it frightened her that Ruby Lucas had never had a man turn her down.

 

The thought of Ruby writhing on the same sheets Emma had helped him tug over his mattress the night before made her sick for some reason. One she absolutely refused to think about . Instead she pushed it down, listening to Mary Margaret explain that she didn’t really know all that much about him. Just that he seemed nice enough the few times she’d met him. She didn’t even seem to realize that he’d moved into the building.

 

“Hey Mags, I have a great idea. Why don’t you invite him over to dinner Friday to properly introduce us. You know how you love setting people up.”

 

“He’s working.”

 

Two pairs of eyes snapped towards her. The words were out of her mouth before she’d even realized it. She wasn’t sure of he was really working or not, but it seemed likely enough. She’d seen him there on a Friday night before.

 

“I mean, I think he is. The last time I brought in a weekend skip he was there.”

 

“Well that’s a shame,” Ruby pouted. “Shit, is that the time? Crap, I have to run, but Mags, next time you see him, do you think you could talk me up?”

 

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

 

“Thanks. You’re the best!”

 

Mary Margaret barely spared Ruby a second glance as she ran out of the cafe, instead focusing her eyes on Emma. Speculation written all over her face.

 

“What was that all about?”

 

“Oh you know Ruby,” Emma tried for nonchalance. “She’s always been man hungry.”

 

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.” Her friend had clearly picked up some lie detecting tricks from David. “You were upset.”

 

“No I wasn’t. I was just trying to be helpful.”  
  
“If that’s true, then please explain to me why the heels of your palms have fingernail imprints in them?”  
  
Emma squirmed under her gaze, trying not to give an inch lest her friend take a mile.

 

“I just feel bad for Graham, you know.” Not a total lie. She was getting good at that. “He’s been in love with her for so long and I just thought it might be really awkward for him having to work with a guy that Ruby’s been with.”

 

“Good try. And yes, it would be if I thought Killian had any interest in her at all.”

 

“And what does that mean?”

 

Emma felt her heart surge with the tiniest bit of hope as Mary Margaret went on to explain that she’d already tried to introduce the two of them on New Year’s but Killian hadn’t been as amiable. So maybe amiable wasn’t the word Mary Margaret used, but it sounded like something Killian would say and for some reason that’s how Emma heard it. Her friend further explained that Killian had actually seemed really put out by the notion of a set up even after he’d seen Ruby’s chest nearly falling out of her dress as she danced around the apartment.

 

It wasn’t until later that day that Emma took offense. Her friend had tried to set Ruby up with Killian, while she’d tried setting up Emma with the mad hatter. She didn’t want Killian, really, she didn’t.

 

_Yes, keep lying to yourself. That’s healthy._

 

But she’d still been offended that Mary Margaret had thought she’d be more compatible with a guy that talked in riddles and dressed up to go to the Boston tea house. It was a place only small children went to feel fancy in their dress up princess clothes. Not a place for a grown ass man to live out some weird fantasy. A part of her wondered if there wasn’t something slightly more sinister going on there.

 

She begged off from their planned dinner the next night. Something she did with them every Friday night, work permitting, but her ire with Mary Margaret had only grown and she didn’t want to see the woman, afraid she may say something regrettable. Unfortunately, it meant that her friend left nothing in her fridge to eat. She contemplated getting something delivered, but she didn’t want to be home if the Charmings from downstairs came up to check on her or to call her bluff about being busy.

 

The little pub around the corner was busier than she’d expected. Nearly every table was full and the bar had a crowd two deep. Emma turned around, set to leave when she saw him, sitting at a table in the corner all by himself.

 

“Is this seat taken?”

 

It was a cheesy line, and she hadn’t meant to sound so throaty as she said it, but she hoped that she come off more as joking than flirty. It didn’t matter though. He was too gone to really even notice her. She could have been wearing a shark onesie and he likely wouldn’t have been fazed. He shouldn’t even be served any more, yet when the waitress walked over with her tray, she had another glass of amber liquid ready for him.

 

“I’ll take that. Can he get some water?”

 

The waitress looked disappointed, but smiled and nodded, returning soon after with a large glass. Emma took a moment longer to order some food, asking for it in a to-go bag. As she waited on it to be ready, she tried to force Killian to drink as much of the water as possible.

 

The walk back to the apartment was a bit of a struggle. Killian was wobbly on his feet and she nearly dropped him trying to open the door to their building, but somehow she made it to the elevator without hurting him. It took a minute of digging around in his jacket pocket to find his own apartment keys.

 

The place was surprisingly immaculate. She’d never seen it in such a condition before. August had always been a bit sloppy. Emma set Killian down on the couch and pulled the food out of the to-go bag she’d been given, insisting that he eat it all to soak up the booze in his stomach. By the end of the meal, he was looking far more sober than when she’d found him at the pub.

 

His eyes still had a glaze over them though, a haunted look, and although she tried not to worry, she couldn’t help asking him what had caused him to get shit-faced. He was evasive, or tried to be, but Emma refused to let him bottle it up. She shouldn’t pry. Not when his inhibitions were so low. She knew that. She would be furious if the tables were turned, but when he said something about a ‘her’ Emma’s concern morphed into something else. A new feeling that left her stomach in angry knots.

 

It was the the same old story of heartbreak. Her name was Milah. They’d dated for two years and suddenly she’d just decided to end things. To walk away from everything they’d built, including the townhouse they’d purchased. Or almost purchased. Something about it being in escrow.

 

But that’s when the tale turned. Her husband had caught wind of her plans to purchase a new home with her lover and told her she needed to choose between his money or her man candy. Ya, the husband had been news to him too. A blatant reminder that no matter how long you’ve been with someone, you never really know them.

 

The money had won out.

 

So he’d packed up. Boxed up the few items that didn’t remind him of her, and asked for a transfer. She felt sick. It was such a vivid reminder of Neal and Walsh. Of how they’d both fooled her into thinking that they loved her, but when it came down to it, neither had. Both had chosen something else over her. Her heart stung for him.

 

She’d been in the society section of the newspaper that morning, promoting a new little boutique uptown. She’d looked happy, really happy, and it had sent Kilian over the edge of misery knowing that she didn’t even miss him. That their breakup was nothing to her.

 

“So, Emma Swan,” he slurred slightly. “You now know my deepest darkest secret. What’s yours?”

 

She didn’t tell him. A mixture between wouldn't and couldn’t. That secret was locked far too deep inside. She’d never told anyone. Not Mary Margaret or David. Not Ruby. Not even August who’d known more about her than anyone.

 

Instead, she lied, telling him about Neal. About how she’d given her virginity to a man a decade older than her. A man that had immersed her in a life of petty theft and crime. How he’d tried to pin something on her, but she’d found out before he could do anything and turned him over to the police. He’d fled before they could arrest him, and she’d been let off with a strong warning. It was the _only_ time being a foster kid had worked in her favor. The judge had taken pity and given her community service in exchange for a dismissal of the charges the DA had tried to hit her with.

 

It wasn’t her deepest secret, but it was still a dark one that she didn’t enjoy discussing. Mary Margaret had just looked at her with pity when she’d told her. That had been the start of her obsession when fixing Emma up with the perfect guy. Ruby’s first question had been to ask if Neal was good in bed. Unfortunately, his age and experience had done little for him. Something Emma didn’t realize until later after she’d had a few more partners.

 

But Killian, he just thanked her, his head still lolling back resting against the edge of the couch.

 

Something shifted between them that night. It started slowly, but they didn’t just talk when they ran into each other for work anymore. They both went out of their way to hang out, binging shows on their days off. Getting meals together. Walking together to Mary Margaret’s Friends’ Friday dinners. And if Emma had made an extra effort to ensure that he sat next to her instead of Ruby, well that was nobody’s business.

 

When Emma sprained her ankle chasing a skip in the rain, it was Killian who wrapped and iced her ankle. His fingers that brushed against her skin creating sparks along the way. It was Killian who told her she didn’t have to go to the emergency room if she didn’t want to, even though all of her other friends were insisting she get it x-rayed. He somehow just knew that what she needed most was to stay in bed. He was also the one that brought her bear claws from Granny’s on his way home from work in the mornings. He stayed up long enough to make her coffee just the way she liked it and brought it to her before going to his own apartment to crash.

 

He had become her everything in that year since their meeting. Somehow a mashup of the relationships she shared with August and Mary Margaret. He was her doting friend that had also become her closest confidant. He was the one she went to when she saw Walsh in the jewelry store buying a ring. The one that told her she wasn’t as stupid as she felt. That the mistake of opening up her heart to someone wasn’t hers, but his for betraying her trust the way he had.

 

He went to her when he was struggling with work. With his new captain who was just a huge dick and how he was always getting crumbs in his stupid black beard. With a case where the evidence just didn’t add up. Even when he was pissed at Dave for interfering in his personal life. She was the first person to hear about is promotion to detective, and his subsequent change to the day shift.

 

They were everything to each other.

 

And that was the problem. She hadn’t realized it. Not at first. But over that year she’d come to rely on him like a crutch in a way. She craved his approval. Wanted to see him smile. To be the one that made him smile. She loved the way that his arm lingered on her shoulders protectively when they went out to the pub for Ruby’s birthday. The way his hand stroked up and down her arm, his thumb drawing circles across her clavicle. The way his fingers always tangled in the ends of her hair.

 

She wanted him. She wanted him in the way that love stories were written about. She wanted him to hold her as they fell asleep at night after a passionate night of lovemaking. She wanted him to wipe away her tears and then kiss her senseless until all of the bad thoughts were banished. She wanted him to tell her that he loved her. Emma wanted him to be her last New Year’s Kiss. She wanted everything with him.

 

She just didn’t know it.

 

Not until Mary Margaret pointed it out while they were taking down the old Christmas decorations. The holiday had passed by in steller fashion. Killian hadn’t been there, instead meeting his brother in New York. The Boston airport had been all but shut down and many of the flights had been rerouted due to weather. Killian had told her that he couldn’t stand the thought of Liam spending the holiday alone in a strange city, so he left early, trying to beat the storm as it raged across the north east coastline.

 

She’d been worried about him driving in such horrible weather, even offering to go with him. But he’d insisted that she stay, not wanting to ruin her holiday as well. She felt empty and alone, despite being surrounded with people. He’d called her when he’d gotten there the night before, as promised to let her know he was ok. Liam was already passed out in the bed next to him so he couldn’t talk for long, but he’d wished her a Merry Christmas Eve before he hung up.

 

The storm had only worsened overnight and the Jones brothers were trapped in the city, unable to get home until the snow had stopped falling and the streets had been cleared. So they spent the morning on Facetime celebrating the holiday the best way possible. Mary Margaret opened the presents he’d left for them and laughed at the NYPD Rookie newborn onesie he’d bought them. Mary Margaret still had a few months to go, but David had already decided that his son was going to wear it one his ride home from the hospital. He tried to get Emma to open the present he’d left for her as well, but she refused, telling him that she’d wait until he was back so they could exchange gifts together.

 

It took four days before Killian finally made it back to Boston. At one point she’d been certain that he was going to miss Mary Margaret’s now infamous New Year’s Eve party, and while it would have sucked for him to miss it, a part of her was secretly glad. Ruby was still insistent that Mary Margaret set the two of them up. That they should forget to take down some of the mistletoe. There was an exaggerated wink that followed and the idea of it had just left a heavy weight on her shoulders, a gnawing in her stomach that she couldn’t quite explain.

 

She pushed that thought out of her brain when he returned though. The feeling of his chest pressed against hers as they hugged in greeting was a balm to her soul. One she didn’t know that she needed, and that was enough for her to forget the dread she’d felt.

 

She couldn’t believe that he’d remembered based on a random story she’d told him months before. He’d given her a magic eight-ball. As a kid she’d been naive and fallen for the story her mother had told her when she’d handed her the box on her 6th birthday. That she’d thought it was an actual lie detector test and she’d carried it everywhere with her, thinking it gave her a superpower, until a bully in one of her group homes had grabbed it from her, tossing it onto the sidewalk from a second story window. Shattering the ball and the last bit of hope she’d had in the world. And while none of her friends had understood the significance of the gift Killian had bestowed upon her, she cherished it.

 

She’d bought him a captain’s hat, telling him that if a man as idiotic as Edward Teach could make captain, than so could he. He’d smiled and kissed her cheek telling her “Thank you for the gift, love.”

 

She wasn’t really sure when he’d started calling her love again, just that it didn’t bother her anymore. In fact, it usually left her with a flutter. Not that she ever dwelled on that.

 

But then Mary Margaret had pointed it out. The way she lit up when Killian was around. That he did the same. The casual affectionate touches that they shared. The fact that they had more inside jokes together than she had with the rest of the group combined. The way they spent all of their free time together.

 

They were dating and neither of them knew it. Or at least Emma hadn’t known it. She couldn’t say for sure. She’d even gone so far as to deny it, but then she’d been reminded of the elevator incident.

 

They had come back from watching a Boston Celtics game. A skip had offered her his family tickets for her to let him go. She’d taken the tickets and cuffed him anyway. Perhaps it wasn’t the most upstanding thing to do, but they’d go to waste otherwise. So they’d gone, had beer and popcorn. It had been fun. It had been long. The metro line had been jam packed and they all regretted not driving to the stadium. The arm she would have paid for parking almost would have been worth it.

 

By the time they made it back to their building, they’d all been exhausted, and the elevator ride seemed slower than usual. David and Mary Margaret had both been leaning against the opposite wall of the elevator, but Emma had leaned back into Killian, allowing him to hold her up. Maybe she’d been too tired to notice the way his hand had settled on her hips, his thumb brushing dangerously low under the waistline of her jeans. Then again, maybe she just hadn’t cared.

 

It had seemed so natural for him to touch her so intimately. Anyone else would have received an elbow to the ribs or a kick in the groin, but with Killian, it was just normal. Mary Margaret had disembarked on her floor, giving Emma an odd look on the way out as David told them good night. Emma had been too tired to care what the look had meant though.  When the elevator had opened on their floor, they hadn't discussed it. They’d just instinctively gone to Emma’s apartment and plopped down on her couch to watch Netflix. They’d woken the next morning spooning each other and neither of them had thought it unusual.

 

So ya, they were dating, and honestly, Emma wasn’t sure what to make of it. Especially when she didn’t know if Killian felt the same way. If he had butterflies when she rubbed his shoulders after a long day. If he felt a rush of heat when he saw her in her in one of her honeytrap dresses.

 

She spent all of New Year’s Eve thinking about it. Debating if she should say anything or not, but he’d winked at her in the hallway as he was getting in from work, and that moment, had solidified her resolve. She was going to find him at midnight and kiss the ever-loving hell out of him. To start the year off right. Maybe she’d even take him back to her apartment after for something more than movie watching.

 

There was a new dress. One she’d been saving for a special occasion. Something more meaningful than a skip. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, her makeup removed and reapplied twice. She even managed to find matching heels. The weather had cleared up enough that they’d even be able to go out on the balcony again, where it had all begun. Everything was perfect.  
  
She’d also severely underestimated how long it would take her to get ready though, and by the time she got down to her friends’ apartment, there were less than fifteen minutes until midnight. With the apartment full of people it was hard to move around, and even harder to find the man she was looking for. With five minutes left, she finally spotted Graham, slipping out of the restroom. She stopped him, grabbing his wrist to ask him if he’d seen Killian.

 

There were tears forming in his eyes though. Something had happened. Something with Ruby, and as much as she wanted her grand dramatic gesture, she needed to comfort her friend more. She had no idea that soon she was the one that would need comforting.

 

He’d been looking for Ruby, thought he’d seen her head into the bathroom. She’d been in there a while so he knocked, trying to make sure she was alright. No one had answered, but he’d heard moaning noises. Thinking that she was in trouble, he’d slipped into the bathroom and caught an eyeful of dark hair fucking Ruby with his mouth.  
  
Emma had had enough. She loved Ruby dearly, and would never judge her for her choices, but Graham was hurting and it was time that Ruby took responsibility for her actions. She stood to make her way to the bathroom but he stopped her.

 

“Emma, you don’t want to do that.”

 

Like hell she didn’t.

 

“I mean it. You _really_ don’t want to go in there.”

 

He was pleading, a fresh wave of tears staining his cheeks and Emma felt every muscle in her body seize up.

 

“And why don’t I want to go in there?” There was a quiver to her voice. She felt so small and weak and hated herself.

 

“Please.”

 

She knew. Before she knew, _she knew_. As she stepped to the door, hand in the air ready to knock, she heard a scream. One final yell of ecstasy fell from Ruby’s lips, and she knew.

  
“ _Jones!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 will post up on the 28th.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living." - Jonathan Safran Foer (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)

 

 

There was something to be said for a life not lived. The way people allowed regrets to build as easily as letters in an unchecked mailbox. Every day choosing to ignore the inevitable arrival of new opportunities. Hoping that by not acknowledging something, it meant that it simply didn’t exist. A road that ends at a fork, a path not taken, a challenge not accepted. But inevitably, everything becomes too much and in an instant, everything can topple. Fate finally spilling over. The choices made, the hearts ruptured. Regrets built on a toxic burial ground where hope went to die.

 

August had said it once. Quoted it from one of the hundreds of books he’d read. "Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living." A more eloquent way of telling her that she was missing out. That she was letting everything pass her by. She hadn’t understood it in the moment. Tensions were too high. But he was right. She’d spent her entire life running, building walls as high as her excuses. She wasn’t living, and now... Well now it might be too late.

 

_ “There’s been an accident.” _

 

David repeated himself once more in an effort to be heard over the music. It took a few minutes to command the attention of the room, but with those four words, her entire world flipped on its axis.

 

That’s all they knew. 

 

The apartment cleared out until only four remained. Then only one. The others already on their way in David’s old beat up truck. But Emma stayed, alone, picking up empty cups, trying to keep her mind occupied. No one even questioned whether she was going to join them. They already knew the answer. One year of silence wouldn’t easily be broken. 

 

She couldn't go. Couldn’t face him. Couldn’t face  _ them _ . If she didn’t go, if she didn’t  _ care _ , then it wouldn’t be real. So she stayed. She stayed until every inch of the apartment was scrubbed clean. All of the food put away. The dishes dried. 

 

The New Year came and went, just as it had every year before. And just as always before, she was alone. Her eyes stung as they blurred as she began to sob.  Outside the window waited the mouth of hell. 

 

The storm continued to rage, wind whipping through her hair. Tears fell from the heavens, camouflaging those on her face. She pleaded with the heavens above to spare a life. A prayer unanswered.

 

* * *

 

 

**New Year’s Day: One year earlier**

 

They didn’t exchange words. Upon hearing Ruby screaming his name, Emma bolted straight back to her own apartment. Graham called after her, but she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing either of their disheveled faces emerging from the bathroom. Didn’t need to stay long enough to see the aftermath. To watch them sneak glances at each other all night. She needed out.

 

She saw him briefly the next morning as he emerged from his own apartment to head to work. He smiled at her as if nothing was wrong. As if he hadn’t ruined everything only hours before. But then he saw her, really saw her. The hollow red eyes, puffy face, chewed nails. The smile changed, something small, something disingenuous. She ignored him, sparing him nothing as she took a wide berth to avoid bumping his shoulder. Despite her four mile run, her body was still unnerved, her emotions unbalanced. She was spoiling for a fight. One he nearly gave her as he tried to grab her wrist, asking her what was wrong. 

 

She couldn’t hide it. The way she despised every fiber of his being written all over her face. He’d seen it, guilt etching it’s way across his brow. The corners of his lips tugging down.

 

“Emma?”

 

Nothing.

 

“You saw didn’t you.” His jaw clenched, muscles flexing.

 

Tears welled unbidden.

 

“Don’t touch me.” She made it five feet down the hallway before she turned back to him. “I trusted you. You know that? I thought- God, it doesn’t even matter. We, whatever this is, we’re through.”

 

He called after her. 

 

_ “ _ Please, Swan, I can explain if you just give me a chance.” 

 

She never turned back. There was no need. There was nothing he could say to make it better. She’d given him her heart, and he’d shattered it in return.

 

When they passed each other in the hallway two days later, he tried. He stood at his doorway, keys in hand after what she assumed was a long shift at work, and he just watched her, pleading with his eyes. He looked so small and weary. So guilty. She turned around right away and ran back into her apartment where she stayed for the rest of the night.

 

Instead of her intended stakeout that evening, she continued to do research on her skip, and if a few tabs on law schools opened themselves by mistake, she made no move to close them. It was time for her to move on. Nothing holding her back anymore. She’d been saving for years. The sole purpose of collecting skips to continue her education, and with her checking account issues finally resolved, her car paid off, and no more reasons not to, it was time.

 

Months passed as Emma readied herself. She studied for the LSAT, filled out university applications from coast to coast. The idea of picking up and leaving everything behind all too tempting. To leave behind the ghosts of her past, to leave behind the burdens on her heart. But then a letter appeared, properly placed in small white envelope.

 

Rejected.

 

The letter was more eloquent than that, but in summation, with very little by way of explanation, it said that once more, she wasn’t good enough.

 

Hope became harder and harder to hold on to as more of the tiny little letters appeared, all saying the same thing.  _ We thank you for your interest. _ Rejection after rejection. Eventually the last one appeared. 

 

Boston University, School of Law. 

 

Rejected.

 

So with nowhere to go, she stayed. Friends’ Friday replaced with Emma Wednesday where the designated beverage was wine and wine alone. Dinner with the Nolans, with only the Nolans. Even the newest and smallest member. She still picked up the odd skip here and there, but with her future gone, there was little to look forward to. No reason to try.

 

Spring came, then summer. Snow melted and flowers bloomed. Somehow, despite her entire life standing still, the rest of of the world went on around her. Killian still lived down the hall, and from what Mary Margaret told her, Ruby was still sleeping her way through the greater part of Boston. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since January, almost seven months earlier.

 

Killian.

 

His number blocked and his knocks unanswered. His gifts returned unopened. She’d cut him out of her life like a cancer. Malignant. Destructive. Deadly. She had no choice. Not after New Year’s. After she finally gave herself permission to open her heart up to him, only to have it crushed in the process.

 

She’d cut Ruby out of her life too, even if the latter had been too self absorbed to notice at first. A two week window passed before Ruby even realized that Emma was upset, much less with her. But after three missed Friday dinners, Ruby finally confronted her. 

 

Emma, in a moment of complete frustration and poor judgement called her promiscuous and selfish. Ruby told her that she had a stick up her ass. That she needed to stop always playing the victim. Their friendship strained beyond the point of repair. That had been the end of that.

 

Despite Mary Margaret’s hovering, Emma’s solitude began to consume her. Alienated from half of her friends, it left her wanting for human companionship. To be touched. Wanted. Desired. Eventually her loneliness won out.

 

Dressed in that same skin tight dress she’d worn countless times before she found herself in a bar. A seedy little number near the edge of the city with her come hither lashes and kiss-me red lips. She’d found him right away. A guy at the end of the bar. He sent her a drink and she sent him back a note on a napkin.

 

They both snuck away to the bathroom at the back. Scummy. Grimy. Just like her conscience. His tongue twisted with hers, his moans filled her ears. She gave as good as she got, reveling in the feel of his hands on her back. But as one of his palms dipped down past her ass, trying to find its way under her hem, something snapped and she felt disgusted with herself. He called after her in shock and anger, calling her a tease as she ran away.

 

Emma showered twice that night and threw the dress away. It was sullied. She tossed and turned, sleep ever elusive. She felt rotten, inside and out. 

 

Emma had never been much of a cryer, reserving her tears for truly awful events. She hadn’t cried when Neal left, not even when Walsh had cheated. In fact, from what she could recall, she’d only cried six times in her entire life. Seven if she counted the night a week later.

 

A song had come over her headphones as she sat in her car waiting for signs of her latest skip. The same stupid song that had played  _ that _ night. The night they’d almost kissed. Neither had discussed it, pretending it never happened. It never came up, and Emma had pushed it to the back of her brain immediately after not wanting to admit to herself that it might have been nice. 

 

It was a late August night. Killian was in rare form telling her humiliating stories from his childhood. Like that his first kiss had been at 16. There was a party and a bottle pointing at him. Apparently teenage Killian had been a gangly awkward kid with oversized glasses. When the girl leaned forward to kiss him, he’d nearly spunked in his pants. It wasn’t all fun though. There was plenty of complaining about her car, the lack of legroom, the hard seats. The way it stood out like a sore thumb, to which she’d replied that it wasn’t nearly as obvious as the yellow bug she’d had before. She’d then had to explain that the bug had been stolen (both times) which led to her telling him about how she’d actually met Neal. She’d always left that part out when they talked about him before. All while sitting in her little Mini Cooper. She hadn’t even invited him. He’d just heard the name of her skip, admittedly a big guy, and worried about her enough to tag along. Telling him about Neal had led to the story of how she ended up in foster care. A story she’d never told anyone _. It wasn’t your fault, Emma. _ That’s what he’d told her as he held her chin in his hand, swiping his thumb across her cheek. Then he’d leaned in, a hair's width separating their lips and she’d been sure he was going to kiss her. Surprisingly, she hadn’t even pulled back. 

 

Not until the car at the corner started blaring its horn at another driver. They’d moved apart so quickly. It had never come up again. Ingrid or the kiss. She wasn’t sure she’d even heard the song since, but as it played that night, tears fell.

 

Emotionally and physically spent, Emma headed home. Her skip had never shown. Nothing to show for her troubles. But when she arrived back to her apartment at four in the morning, she found her door unlocked and her kitchen lights on. She briefly considered running down stairs and waking up David, but considering how little sleep he usually got with baby Leo constantly waking up at odd intervals, she chose to let him sleep.

 

Grabbing a broom from the closet nearest the door, she headed from room to room, looking for signs of an intruder or missing items. Everything seemed fine though, and with a large sigh Emma flopped down on her couch, only to scream when her body came into contact with a large male form groaning underneath her. She shot up, searching from the boorm handle or any other large heavy object she could use to incapacitate the intruder.

 

“I’ve been meaning to bump into you.”

 

Emma’s eyes popped open at the recognition of his voice. One she hadn’t heard for months.

 

“Are you asking me out?”

 

“I hardly need to ask you out when I’ve already found my way in.”

 

Emma showed him to the edge of the sofa, allowing her space to sit down beside him.

 

“Why  _ are _ you in my apartment anyway?”

 

He shifted over a little more, allowing him to turn in the table top lamp. He hair was longer than she’d ever seen it. Curlier. His eyes still blue but tired. 

 

“Let’s just say Phuket is overrated. I missed the capitalistic consumerism of the good ol’ U-S-of-A.”

 

“You mean that you owed too many people money over there so you ran back home with your tail between your legs.” He laughed next to her, confirming her suspicions. “Well, to be fair, you lasted longer than I thought you would. And I know why you’re here in Boston, but that doesn’t explain why you’re in  _ my _ apartment.”

 

They stayed up for another hour talking about life. August had gotten in that night and found her spare key in her usual hiding spot, taped to the inside top of the emergency call box in the elevator. He let himself in after waiting forty five minutes. Apparently the guy that had moved into his old apartment was concerned and told him he was loitering and needed to leave. That was his other problem. He no longer had a place, and hadn’t bothered making many friends in the city during his time there. Emma was the only person he knew that would let him crash on her couch for a night or two. A week tops.

 

A week turned into a month, and August started joining Emma at her weekly dinners with David and Mary Margaret, never correcting their assumptions about the nature of his and Emma’s relationship. Letting her friends believe she was taken had benefits. It prevented Mary Margaret from just barging into her apartment at odd hours. It gave her an excuse to bail on plans at the last minute. But mostly it stopped her friend from trying to set her up every time the saw each other. 

 

Living with him, if that’s what she could call it, had its cons too though. August’s hours were just as irregular as she remembered, and his writing temperament even more erratic. He was messy, drank like a fish, and was constantly eating all of her food. Worst of all, he had a habit of leaving the toilet seat up. Emma found that out the hard way.

 

They bickered nonstop, and Emma couldn’t help but wonder if that was what it was like to have a sibling. An older brother to drive her crazy, while somehow simultaneously giving her comfort by making her finally feel like she wasn’t alone anymore. 

 

During one particularly intense round of arguing, August had insinuated that she needed to get laid. The suggestion hadn’t been well received and she’d almost kicked him out right then and there. But then he’d explained himself. The Emma Swan he knew had always had a rather lascivious appetite for sex as a stress reliever. He wasn’t wrong. The Emma he knew had no issues putting on a skimpy little number and finding a man for the night. That was before Killian though. She’d already tried that and it had gone spectacularly wrong.

 

Fighting about her sex life had forced her to reveal things to August. Things she’d skillfully left out of prior conversations. Like how close she had Killian had really been. How she’d realized too late that she was in love with him. How he’d cheated on her. Even about the guy in the bar bathroom.

 

After she told him the entire story, he just whistled and sat there, taking in everything she’d said.

 

Finally, he spoke.

 

“So what you need isn’t to get laid. What you  _ need _ is a date.”

 

Emma smacked him in the chest, but he continued.

 

“No, hear me out. It’s been what, eight, nine months now, right?”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“So it’s been all this time, and you’re still in love with the guy.” She opened her mouth but he cut her off. “And before you try to deny it, yes you are. You wouldn’t still be this upset if you weren't. Hell, you weren’t even half as hurt when Walsh cheated on you, and you guys were practically engaged.”

 

Emma sighed, slumping her shoulders in resignation. He was right. When she’d caught Walsh, she’d been pissed, throwing out everything in her apartment that belonged to him. But with Killian she’d sulked, drowning in her pain, unwilling to let it go.

 

“Emma, you’re never going to get over him like this. Hiding in your apartment every time you see him coming down the hall. Pretending he doesn’t exist. If you  _ really _ want to get over him, you need to learn to put yourself back out there. You need to find someone new.”

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

And that was exactly what she did. She went to bed thinking about Killian and her inability to get over him. The fact that even if she was willing to put herself out into the world, she’d still held firm to the idea that Emma Swan didn’t date. Except that she did. Or at least she had, and just hadn’t realized it at the time.

 

She thought about it the next week and the one after that. She thought about it at the store, on her morning runs. She even thought about it in the shower. But it wasn’t until she was bringing in her latest skip, so lost in thought that she forgot where she was going that the world had given Emma a chance to turn the idea of dating into a reality. 

 

Graham. She hadn’t seen him since that night. Could still see the look on his face that evening. But on that particular morning, dragging Bobby McFarland in for skipping out on his fraud charges, Graham looked different. Happy even.

 

After she’d transferred her skip over, Graham struck up a conversation with her. They exchanged small talk, which turned to reminiscing, and somehow it had turned into an invitation for dinner. Emma accepted, thinking that it would be nice to have some time to catch up with her old friend. It hadn’t even occurred to her, until hours later when she talked to August about it, that it was a date. Or it was possibly a date. Graham hadn’t actually used that word, but the text he’d sent her asked if she’d been to Luciano’s, an upscale Italian restaurant.

 

She didn’t even pick out her outfit. After trying on every single thing she owned, Emma had screamed into her pillow. August ran into her room to find her entire closet on her floor and finally told her to just trust him. What he left out on her bed nearly left her in tears. It was that same pale pink dress that she’d hidden deep within her closet. The one that had only ever seen the light of day once.

 

She thought about throwing it away, just like the red dress, but quickly realized it was the only thing she had that nice enough for the restaurant. So she put it on, and then put on the biggest fake smile she could manage. 

 

Graham picked her up a six, just as planned. The car ride there was fairly short, but the conversation was stilted. Both grappled for something to say. For anything. An odd turn of events given how easily they conversed only hours before. The ordering of their food and drinks went much the same. Both of them trying to start conversations at the same time, then stopping as soon as they realized it. As far as first dates went, it wasn’t her worst, but far from her best.

 

Finally, after the appetizers arrived, the two of them finally managed to settle into a groove. She discovered that Graham was studying for the Captain’s exam but wasn’t sure if he was going to take it or not. He’s taken a vacation recently and had fallen in love with a sleepy little town in Maine. He was still strongly contemplating a move there, knowing that the Sheriff was retiring soon and looking for a replacement. With his experience, he was a shoo-in.

 

She told him she that she’d considered leaving Boston at one point too, but fate must have had other plans. She left out the multiple rejection letters from different law schools though. It was humiliating enough without sharing that little tidbit with people. 

 

Around dessert, things turned. Without realizing it, Emma placed her hand on Graham’s hand. It was an innocent gesture on her part, just a reflex after a joke. It immediately caught his attention though, and Graham smiled at her. 

They both loosened up after that, staying until the bottle of wine they ordered was finished. Emma drank more than her fair share, knowing that Graham still had to drive home. She was still pleasantly buzzed when he dropped her off, making sure to walk her to the door. 

 

There was a moment. A silly joke that resulted in Emma grabbing his arm as she unlocked the door. She hadn’t seen it coming. He leaned in and kissed her. His lips tasting of the chocolate cake they’d shared at dinner.

 

She froze.

 

Graham pulled back, taking a moment to study her.

 

“Emma, what’re we doing here?”

 

“What do you want to be doing here?” She did her best to sound coy, but the truth was that she was terrified. 

 

If he rejected her, a cloud of humiliation would follow every time she saw him. But if he  _ did _ want to move forward, she wasn’t sure what she would even be capable of giving him. Lingering glances, hand holding. Those were easy, but eventually he’d want more, and she didn’t know if she could give him that. Not if she couldn’t even let him kiss her.

 

“I- When I asked you to dinner, I think a small part of me hoped you would say no. Not because you aren’t a lovely person, but it felt inappropriate the minute the words left my lips. You’re one of Ruby’s best friends, or at least you were. And Killian, he still asks David about you all the time.”

 

Her gaze stayed focused on the small door knob in front of her, unable to make eye contact with the man across from her.

 

“Well he has no right to.”

 

“Perhaps not. Look, Emma, I’m not completely sure what happened that night. I mean, I don't know what led to them finding their way into that bathroom together, and I left right after you did. I’ve never brought it up with either of them, but I can tell you that when Killian came into work the next day, he was gutted.”

 

“What he  _ was _ , was hungover. That’s all.”

 

“And you. I could tell how distraught you were. You still love him, don’t you.”

 

“Why does everyone think that. I’m over him. Have been for a long time.”

 

His head nodded slightly as his lips pursed, obviously not convinced.

 

“I think I’m going to take that job. It’s time for me to move on. Ruby, she’s never going to see me as anything more than a friend. I need to let her go. But you. You still have a chance. You just have to decide if you want to take it.”

 

Graham gave her a quick hug, and she understood it for what it was. A goodbye. 

 

She gave up after that. It was a stupid idea to begin with. Thinking that a few dates would mend all of her broken edges. Emma was beyond repair. A small bout of depression set in. She slept more than usual, ate less. Yelled at August for everything, even things that weren’t his fault.

 

It all came to a head just before Thanksgiving. Emma was spoiling for a fight, and August took the brunt of her wrath. Spouting useless quotes like they were the elixir of life. 

 

"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living." 

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

They’d been going at it for the better part of an hour, and Emma was at the end of her tether. 

 

“You’re not living, Emma. You’re just existing.”

 

“That’s crap and you know it.”

 

“Hardly. You run from everything. What kind of life is that? Did you even really let Killian in?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Did you really let him in. Or did you keep him at arm's length too, telling him half truths about yourself? God, Emma. You keep talking about how he cheated on you, but you weren’t even together!”

 

“Out.”

 

August was shocked, not expecting her to kick him out. Especially not in the middle of the night, carrying all of his belongings in a garbage bag. He pleaded with her to let him stay, just until he could find a place, but she was done. She was done listening to people telling her how to live her life. Done listening to people reminding her of all of her flaws. She was just done.

 

He left her with one parting thought.

 

“It’s so easy to hide behind those walls of yours. To block out pain and disappointment. The inevitable betrayal of those who were meant to care about you. And I know you think you’re protecting yourself from heartache, but all you’ve really done is to block out love. A life without love, well what’s the point of living?”

 

She slept through the holiday. A small bottle of tequila had ensured that. She called Mary Margaret the day before, telling her she was going out of town for work, then turned her phone off. Then she drank. She drank until the small bottle was empty, trying to drown out the sharp pain August’s words had caused. To drown out the look on Killian’s face on New Year’s Day. The sound of Ruby’s voice screaming his name. She drank until there was nothing.

 

The next day brought with it the worst hangover of Emma’s life. She slept all of Thanksgiving and most of Black Friday away. When she finally woke, it was to a pounding headache and a queasy stomach. So much so that she had to bolt for the bathroom, not even making it to the toilet before she heaved what little stomach content she had remaining in the sink.

 

She slid down to the tile floor where she continued to dry heave for the rest of the night. The sun rose hours before she finally felt human enough to crawl back into bed. Emma woke again five hours later, still sick, but extremely thirsty. Her body hated her. When she forced herself to trudge into the kitchen for a glass of water, she realized what had woken her. 

 

Mary Margaret was hard as work cleaning out the contents of her fridge and washing dishes to make room for the full tupperware bowls she’d brought up.

 

“I have got to get that lock changed.”

 

Her friend jumped, clearly not having expected anyone to be home. Emma lied, telling her that she’d come down with a stomach flu, forcing her to return to Boston early.  In an effort to help, Mary Margaret set to cooking up some chicken noodle soup for Emma. The latter tried her hardest not to vomit again at the smell, forcing down small bites as her own personal chef watched her with eager mother hen eyes.

 

Another two weeks passed before Emma realized that she’d be spending the next set of holidays alone as well. David’s mother was too old to travel but desperately wanted to be with them and baby Leo for Christmas. They agreed to travel to her house in New Hampshire, but Mary Margaret was insistent that they would be back in time for their annual New Year’s party.

 

Seeing the reluctance in Emma’s eyes, Mary Margaret was quick to add that Killian wouldn’t be there that year. He already had plans elsewhere. 

 

So Christmas came and went. Emma spent the day watching old holiday movies and eating Chinese food, but abstained from drinking any eggnog or other alcohol filled beverage. In summation, it sucked. It was the first time she’d spent Christmas alone since college, and as the loneliness set in, August’s words echoed through her head.

 

_ Or did you keep him at arm's length too? _

 

_ It’s so easy to hide behind those walls of yours. _

 

_ Without love, well what’s the point of living? _

 

Perhaps he’d been right. She’d pushed away everyone. She was so afraid that everyone would leave her, that she stopped letting them in. And in the end, she was all alone with only herself to blame.

 

New Year’s came in spectacular fashion. David said they’d barely made it home in time. The storm of the century was apparently bearing down on the city. Only a handful of their invited guests managed to make it to the party. Ones that lived within walking distance. The rest chose to stay put, bundled in the warmth and safety of their own homes. Even Ruby had called off, telling them she was staying with her boyfriend, much to Emma’s relief. The two women still hadn’t spoken since Emma’s verbal lashing of Ruby’s life choices. When the realization hit that her boyfriend could very easily be Killian, she did her best to push the thought to the back of her mind.

 

The windows sounded as if they were going to buckle from the wind pounding at them. Snow continued to pile up. Emma watched from the door by the balcony, unable to step outside. Eventually Mary Margaret came to join her in watching the storm.

 

“Well it looks like you lucked out.”

 

Emma tilted her head, not understanding her friends words.

 

“The storm I mean. I had this guy I wanted to introduce you to. He’s in insurance. Anyway, he couldn’t make it because of the storm. And I just know how much you love my set up attempts.”

 

“If you know how much I hate them, then why do you keep pushing these losers on me?”

 

Mary Margaret chuckled.

 

“The word loser is arbitrary. But honestly, I just want you to be happy. You’ve been alone for so long now, and I know without a little push, that you’ll never put yourself out there.”

 

Emma swallowed, taking a deep breath before asking the question that had bothered her for nearly two years.

 

“Why did you set Killian up with Ruby.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Mary Margaret. Every year you pick out this guy who I have nothing in common with. Men who I don’t even find attractive. They’re just strays you took in. So why did you set Killian up with Ruby, and me with Jefferson? Why didn’t you think I was good enough for him?”

 

“Oh, Emma.” Her friend moved in and wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a sideways embrace. “Because, I knew that if I had, you never would have given him a chance. You would have rolled your eyes and shunned him out of spite.”

 

Emma wanted to argue, but the truth was that’s exactly what would have happened. She would have run as far away from him as possible. Fat lot of good it had done her in the end though. She may have run, but at least her heart wouldn’t have cracked in two.

 

“There’s been an accident.”

 

Emma barely heard him over the music and dull conversation noise. She turned just in time to see David climb on top of the coffee table.

 

“Everyone. I’m sorry but there’s been an accident. One of our friends was hurt. I’m sorry but we’re going to have to cut this party short.”

 

There was confusion. People trying to guess what happened as they collected their coats. Most people assumed that it had something to do with David’s mother. Mary Margaret tried to ask him what had happened, but he only shook his head, waiting until all of their guests had gone. Only the three of them and baby Leo asleep in the next room remained.

 

“It’s Killian. He filled in for Lance tonight. Belle went into labor this afternoon so Killian took his shift. I guess he was doing a routine traffic stop and a drunk guy slammed into him. The witnesses told Smee that the driver didn’t even try to stop.”

 

The world stood still. No sounds, no smells. No light. Everything ceased in that moment.

 

“Oh, David.” There was a tremble to her friends voice. One she’d never heard before in their decade-long friendship.

 

“They’re taking him to Mass Gen. That’s all I know.”

 

Emma stood in her place, unmoving as her friends moved in tandem, packing a bag for baby Leo, changing into warmer clothes. They were out the door before the shock fully set in, and Emma moved on autopilot, cleaning the apartment until it sparkled.

 

Hours passed as Emma tossed and turned in her bed unable to sleep.

 

_ There’s been an accident. _

 

David’s words played on repeat in her mind. A broken record with a scratch. An imperfection magnified. She’d never even told him that she loved him. And now it might be too late. She couldn’t take it anymore, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas. The snow continued to pummel the city. Her Mini Cooper no match for the feet of snow. Even with the city constantly plowing the streets, the snow was too much. She managed to get halfway to the hospital before she spun out, crashing into an embankment, burying half of her car in a wall of white.

 

Dazed, she was forced to crawl into the back seat, using the force of her legs to kick the door open. She was determined to get the the hospital, even is she had to walk the remaining three miles.

 

For once though, luck was on her side. A black car pulled up beside her, and just as she was getting ready to tell the driver to get lost, ignoring the way her body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold, she heard it. His voice. 

 

“Hey kid. You’re gonna get yourself killed out here. You know that?” 

 

She heard the locking mechanism shift and immediately climbed inside, hugging Mullins for dear life.

 

“What are you even doing here?”

 

“Eh, with the storm they needed all hands on deck. Trust me, it’s a one time thing.”

 

He shifted the car back into drive. She didn’t tell him where she was going. Didn’t have to. There was no way he’d missed the call over his radio. He did speak, giving her the time she needed to think. When he dropped her off at the entrance to the emergency room, he told her that he’d work on getting her car towed out of the snow ditch. That was it. No words of wisdom. No platitudes. Nothing.

 

The emergency room was mania. People who’d hurt themselves while drunk. More victims of car accidents. A guy who fell on the ice. It was a madhouse with people everywhere. She looked around for her friends, but couldn’t find them anywhere. In desperation, she slipped through the double doors separating the waiting room from the trauma area, making her way to the nurses’ station.

 

“May I help you?”

 

“Ya, I’m- I’m looking for a guy. His name is Jones. He was brought in a few hours ago from a car accident.”

 

The person at the desk typed away at her computer, seemingly oblivious to Emma’s anguish. 

 

“K. Jones?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you family.”

 

Emma didn’t hesitate, telling the woman quite emphatically that she was.

 

“He’s in surgery right now. Take a seat in the waiting area and I’ll have someone come out and update you as soon as they know more.”

 

It wasn’t good enough. She wanted to see him, but the very burly security guard had other ideas, personally escorting Emma back to the waiting area. She found one lone empty seat in the corner at the back of the room. She sat there for ages, waiting for word as the number of people waiting with her dwindled. There were no signs of Mary Margaret or David and she wondered if something happened to them. If they'd become stuck too. Unfortunately, she’d left her phone in her car and had no way to contact them.

 

More time passed. She watched as the clock ticked past five in the morning with still no word. Finally, the double doors opened and a tired looking man in green scrubs emerged, heading straight towards Emma.

 

“Jones family?”

 

Emma nodded her head. Words caught in her throat.

 

“Mr. Jones has sustained substantial trauma. His still in surgery right now. As I said, his injuries are severe. I won’t beat around the bush with you. They’re doing everything they can, but are you aware of Mr. Jones’s wishes?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

The doctor took a deep breath. 

 

“Is Mr. Jones an organ donor?”

 

“I- uh- I have no idea.”

 

The doctor nodded, telling her that he needed to return to surgery. 

 

As a child, Emma had witnessed the single most traumatizing moment of her life. She and her mother had been on vacation in South Carolina. Her aunts were supposed to join them, but the news had predicted that there was a chance of a hurricane landing on their doorstep. Ingrid watched the news, tracking the storm for two days. The hurricane shifted south, and they thought they’d be fine so they stayed, playing on the beach all day.

 

The tides turned though, and the hurricane came in that night. Emma, not realizing how dangerous it was, ran to the doors, opening them so she could watch the storm come in. Ingrid ran to her, scooping her out of the way just as a palm tree fell in her place, shattering all of the glass in the door. 

 

The wind picked up, and Ingrid cradled Emma in her arms, shielding her from the waves of rain coming through the open doorway. Ingrid tried to stand up, to move into another room, but the wind was too strong, knocking her back down with Emma still in her arms. 

 

Emma couldn’t see anything, her face tucked into her mother’s cheek. But as a particularly harsh gust came, Emma heard her mother cry out, and her arms loosened their grip. Emma looked up to see her mother’s eyes lifeless. She cried and screamed, begging for Ingrid to wake up. Pointless. The storm passed, as did the only family Emma had.

 

Emma had always blamed herself, holding on to that memory. Never telling a single soul except Killian. 

 

_ It wasn’t your fault, Emma. _

 

That’s what he’d told her that night in her Mini Cooper. Yet, she still couldn’t help blaming herself anyway.

 

Losing Ingrid the way that she had had been traumatizing. But sitting there in the back of the waiting room, all alone waiting to hear whether or not Killian was going to survive, well that was somehow worse. The clock passed six, and finally sleep overtook her. The adrenaline of the night finally wearing off. 

 

She dreamed of him. Of him sitting next to her on the couch, watching a movie as they had so many times before. Of him grabbing her shoulder. Of him calling her name in a whisper.

 

“Swan?”

 

Emma’s eyes were heavy as she fought off the call of sleep.

 

“Swan?” The voice repeated.

 

With all of the force her body would allow, Emma pried her eyes open, stunned by what she saw before her.

 

“How? How are you here?”

 

“What do you mean, love?” She could tell by the low timber of his voice that he was hesitant to speak to her.

 

Emma sat up straight, grabbing his face, checking for wounds. Aside from his hand in a bandage, nothing appeared to be wrong, and she questioned whether she was actually awake or not.

 

“They said you were in surgery. That-” she felt tears spilling over. “They said you weren’t going to make it. Wanted to know if you were an organ donor.”

 

Killian pulled back, his mouth pulled tight. He stood from where he was crouched in front of her, tugging her up in the process. He pulled her back through the same double doors she’d snuck through earlier, demanding to know why someone had told Emma that he was dying.

 

“Sir, the information we gave her was accurate.” The woman turned to help someone else, completely ignorant of the way she’d turned Emma’s life upside down. Emma was ready to snap at her, but when she caught Killian’s eye, she noticed his jaw flexing.

 

“And you asked for me? Killian?

 

“Uh, I think. Yes. No. I mean, I asked for Jones, and she asked if it was a K. Jones.”

 

A smattering of pink tinging his cheeks.

 

“Ah, I think I see where we’ve gone wrong.”

 

Emma looked at him. Confusion settling into her blood, cooling the anger she’d just felt.

 

“You see, Jones is a fairly common name, love. The drunk driver from tonight, his name was Kevin Jones. He hit the car I’d stopped head on. Clipped my hand in the process.”

 

Emma wasted no time pulling him in for a kiss. It was nothing like she’d expected. His lips were chapped and rough. Unmoving. He tasted of stale hospital coffee. And she’d caught him off guard. Still, even with all of that, it was perfect in its own way. Even if his watch did manage to catch on her hair as he grabbed the back of her head with more force than necessary, finally coming to his senses.

 

He drove her home that night, calling to check in on David along the way. They’d only made it about a mile from the apartment before they realized that the storm was too bad, turning around and waiting on word from Smee. Luckily, in the time since the accident the storm had passed. She looked for her car on the way, hoping that Mullins had succeeded in towing it back to the station. It took them longer than expected to get home, but Killian had insisted on going slow, not wanting to take a chance with her in the vehicle.

 

Emma didn’t hesitate to follow Killian to his apartment. Kissing him again once they were inside. He stiffened slightly at her touch, but quickly melted into her. But as she began to pull his shirt up, loosening it from his pants, he stopped her.

 

“Wait, Swan. Before we go any further, we need to talk. I need to explain what happened.”

 

“I don’t care. It’s in the past.”

 

“Perhaps, but I care. I don’t want to start anything with this lingering between us. I want to clear the air.”

 

It was the last thing Emma wanted to discuss. She’d already gone through enough that night. She didn’t need to relive his fling with Ruby as well. She sat next to him on the couch anyway though. Fatigue taking over.

 

“That night, I’d just finished getting ready for the party when I heard a knock. Naturally I thought it was you or my brother coming back upstairs for something, so I opened the door without checking the peephole. But when the door opened, it was Milah on the other side. She told me that she’d finally left her husband and that she wanted me back. And then she kissed me. I wanted to push her off but it was so unexpected. I was frozen, stuck in time while the rest of the world kept speeding around me.”

 

Emma waited until he was ready to continue.

 

“When I came to my senses, I pushed her away and told her that it was too late. That I had already moved on. That I was happy with someone else. I was so upset after seeing her that I went inside and had a glass of rum to calm my nerves, but one glass turned into two, and then three.”

 

She couldn’t look at him. She understood. She’d have done the same thing if she’d seen Neal or Walsh. But now that he’d opened Pandora’s box, she couldn’t help but remember all of the pain she’d felt for the last year. That his poor choices had led to it.

 

“So that’s when you came to the party. That’s when you found her. After you’d had all the rum?”

 

His head tilted as he watched her. The confusion apparent in the way his eyes crinkled at the edges.

 

“Emma, what are you talking about? “

 

“Last year.”

 

The words nearly caught in her through as the image of that night played through her head once more. He’d been pissed and drank too much. Understandable, yet somehow it didn’t help to ease any of the pain she still felt.

 

I never made it to the party last year.”

 

“Yes you did!”

 

“Love. I assure you that I never left my apartment that night.”

 

She studied him. His eyes never left hers. His hands never twitched. No signs of a lie.

 

“Emma, did you actually see  _ me _ ? Hear  _ my _ voice?”

 

“But, Graham, he said he saw you with Ruby. Saw your- I heard it. She screamed out your last name for God’s sake.” 

 

Killian barked out a laugh, much to Emma’s consternation.

 

“Swan. I wasn’t the only Jones in the building that night you know.”

 

He waited, as the gears turned in her head.

 

“Liam?”

  
As I said before, love, it  _ is _ a rather common name.”

 


End file.
